Even After All These Years
by creddiefansforum
Summary: Four phone calls, one last night and one Christmas Day/Or Carly and Freddie over the years. for aisforangelaa, with the prompt 2AM for the Secret Santa challenge.


"Okay, then what?"

"Um, she ate the rest of the ham, and then the last bits of the cookie ice cream," Carly mumbles, eyes fluttering against the pull of sleep.

"Of course she did," she can almost hear the smile in his voice. "And then did she go home?"

"No," Carly yawns. "She – she stole Spencer's blanket and then she wanted to sleep on the couch, and then Spencer was all confused because – because..."

"His blanket was gone?" Freddie offers helpfully.

"Yeah," she buries her nose into a fistful of duvet. "So – so yeah."

"Carly, go to sleep," he's laughing, his words laced with something tender and gentle. Her stomach does something funny. "It's 2am."

"But I like talking to you," she whines.

"Hey, you talk to me every day," he says softly. "Come on, sleep time."

"Okay," she blindly fumbles with her phone. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Carly," he murmurs, just before she cuts off the call, his voice a lullaby for her much-needed sleep.

* * *

"Come on, just tell me his name."

"No!"

"First letter?"

"...um, well – Freddie, no."

"Why?"

"Because – because I just can't!"

"I know you've told Sam," she can hear a streak of hurt in his voice and she closes her eyes.

"Freddie, it's different," she tries.

"What aren't you telling me?" he says sharply. "It's not a friend of mine, is it?"

"Um, I hope he is," Carly considers his self-esteem briefly.

"What does that mean?"

"Just that – uh – it's hard to explain."

"Carly, I won't judge you or anything, if that's what you're worried about," he says quietly. "Unless he's got tattoos and piercings. Because that's weird. And if he's more than three years older."

"_Freddie_."

"What? I care about your safety."

"You're stereotyping!" she exclaims indignantly. "And I'm fine, I've figured out where to say no to a guy."

"Good. I hate seeing you get hurt."

Her insides squirm happily. "You're sweet."

"I know," he remarks, and she grins. "Do you think this guy might hurt you?"

"I think that he wouldn't ever want to," she says slowly. "But if he did it would be more painful than anything else that's ever happened to me. Except for my mom, of course."

"Wow," but he doesn't sound surprised. "So he means a lot."

"He has for a very long time," she says, and she's risking everything here and he's so damn clueless (but it's adorable, so she doesn't care).

"What's he like?"

"He's really smart-"

"Smarter than me?"

"About the same, and hush," she bites her lip. "He's very, very sweet, and he's kind of gotten, like, _cute_ over the last couple of years and I didn't realise it."

"Are you sure I'm friends with this guy?" he sounds resentful, and she giggles.

"I think you are," she says, and then she changes the subject.

* * *

"Wait, the fire escape is romantic?"

"Yeah," Carly says, her mouth stuck in a smile. "Because it's private and looks out on the lights of our hideously ugly Seattle."

He laughs. "Okay, I'll get a hamper or something. And I'll get some of my mom's hand sanitizer. And a blanket."

"What, now?"

"Sure," he's clearly very amused. "When else are we going to get to do this?"

"Um, like, any time?"

"Come on, be spontaneous."

"I am spontaneous!"

"Prove it," she _knows_ he's got that infuriating little smirk on his mouth and doesn't know whether to bite her lip or offer him a smack on the arm next time she sees him.

"Fine," she says. "See you there in ten minutes."

"You're on," he replies. "Bring your sweater, it's cold."

"Quiet, you."

* * *

"Carly, _please_-"

"I saw you!"

"I know, I know, but it didn't mean anything, I swear."

"Why do it then? Why did you kiss some random slut at a party?"

"The punch was spiked!"

"Everyone had punch," she says angrily. "And you were the only one _cheating_ –"

"I wasn't cheating!" he hisses, eyes screwed shut. "She kissed _me_, I was just trying to be friendly and she took it the wrong way."

"You were holding her," she's choking now, her throat closing up. Tears are streaming down her cheeks. "You had your hands all over her."

"I kissed her back for one _damn_ second," he tries desperately. "And then all I could think about was you and I pulled away from her and I saw _you_ and my heart just – it just _ached_."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," she snarls, fingers itching to end the call.

"I'm sorry," his voice is thick, weak, and her stomach gives an almighty pang. "I'm sorry – I'm so sorry, please, Carly, _please_ don't think I don't love you or something."

"Can you come over?" her body is shuddering with her grief, and she can barely hear his huge sigh and confirmation before she hangs up on him.

* * *

"I love you," he breathes into her shoulder.

"I love you, too," she replies softly, squeezing the hand wrapped tightly around her waist. "This is nice."

"Mm," he cuddles into her even more, as if he wants to climb inside her and curl up. "You're warm."

"Winter duvet," she mumbles.

"Good thinking."

"Freddie, are you okay?" she cranes her head round to look at him. "You're very hugsy tonight."

He simply looks at her with his big brown eyes (filled with so much love she wants to cry) and then tucks an unruly lock of dark hair behind her ear.

"I'm going away," he murmurs. "Next week."

"For work?" she asks, turning properly in his arms and resting a hand on his bare chest. "Where?"

"Spain," he clutches her hands. "For a month."

"I'll miss you," she says automatically; like she does every time he goes away.

"I'll think about you all the time," he says. His gaze has not wavered from deep in her eyes. "I'll be back for Christmas."

"At least you won't miss Christmas again," she says.

"I'll get you something really awesome," he promises, smiling for the first time in about an hour, and she leans in to kiss him very gently. He responds twice as enthusiastically.

* * *

Carly turns the volume on the radio up just a little more before hurrying to the oven to check on the turkey. Freddie is fifteen minutes late and she's worrying, wringing her hands and pacing in between perfecting her Christmas lunch. He's off the plane and getting a taxi home; maybe there's traffic?

She's just boiled the kettle when keys turn in the lock and she's already running to the door by the time he's in their apartment.

"Freddie!" she throws her arms about his neck (she notices he drops his luggage with practise just before she jumps into his arms) and feels him hug her just as tightly.

"Hi," he's laughing into her hair, hoisting her upwards so her legs wrap around his hips. "That was certainly a welcome, and ooh, I smell turkey."

"Christmas lunch is almost done," she says, her arms still fastened securely around his neck. "And Sam's on her way with baby April."

"Awesome," he finally sets her down, and she notices his skin.

"You got a tan," she smirks, because he looks lovely.

"I did," he says, grabbing hold of one of his suitcases. She picks up his rucksack and deposits it on their couch. "I had one two-hour meeting a day so I swam and stuff."

"No Spanish ladies take your fancy?" she teases.

"Never," he kisses her nose, shuffling his jacket off his shoulders and then kissing her properly for a few seconds. "I missed you."

"I missed you so much," she stares at him for a few seconds, taking him in. "I have to tell you something."

"What?" he cups her cheek with his hand. She takes it and presses it to her stomach.

"Do you feel it?" she asks, and his eyes widen.

"No," he says, but a grin is splitting his face in half and she barely gets a nod out before he's picked her up again. "Oh my _God_."

"Yeah," she laughs, peppering kisses to his forehead. "It's a girl."

He sets her very carefully down. "Seriously? A baby girl?"

"A daughter," she breathes, stroking his hair. "We're going to be a little family."

"How far are you along?" he asks, kneeling down and running his fingers along her belly.

"Three months."

"Oh, yeah, you were getting sick a couple of mornings," he says, pressing an ear to her belly. "Hi, baby, it's Daddy, and I've never met you before but I love you."

And through thoughts of baby formula and messy nappies and sleepless nights, Carly smiles.

"Merry Christmas, Freddie," she says quietly, her hand smoothing his hair back again. He beams up at her.

"Merry Christmas, Carly," he replies, pressing a loud, wet kiss to her slightly rounded belly.

* * *

**A/N: Hi, angela, it's fbnk_luv (Catherine)! It was lovely being your secret santa and I hope you enjoyed your fics and also had a lovely Christmas and New Year!**

**feedback is lovely! Please don't just favourite without a review.**


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